


Incubus

by orphan_account



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, sleep paralysis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 04:32:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	Incubus

There were certain times that Jack was very grateful his family home is surrounded by thick woods. 

They lived there, together, in a house with two rooms. There wasn't anything particularly odd about that size, not in the 17th century and certainly not in rural Virginia, but that didn't stop the fact that it quickly becomes awkward to share close quarters with family members during one's teenage years. He couldn't exactly explain to his sister that a loose and low moan that escaped his lips during his sleep was not from some sort of pain or fear. He couldn't talk to his mother about the strange visions that came to him in his sleep, about the feeling of strange lips against his own.

Jack thought that if his father had still been close at hand, he might talk to him about the strange feelings that had been plaguing him more and more persistently over the years. He shook his head and sighed as he walked, banishing the thought from his mind. Even when his father came home from his expeditions, Jack's mouth would go bone dry and he'd not be able to say a word, cheeks burning red hot with embarrassment.

Furthermore, he reminded himself while hopping over the gnarled roots of a pitch pine, Jack's feelings, his... yearnings seemed to be completely out of sync with what his friends were experiencing. The urges that they had started to have had all been more or less taken care of. Those that weren't married would tell him in low voices, always winking, that there were plenty of girls that took care of such things, if one knew where to look. But when he had, at their well-meaning insistence, been taken to a whore, the most that Jack had been able to feel was a deep sense of unease. Even now, he felt the cold sense of dread twist in his gut; he remembered the puzzled looks and none-too-subtle jeers that his friends had bandied about when he had told them that he hadn't understood how they could enjoy something like that.

He was, they assured him, probably just a God-given romantic. When he was married, they told him over a mug of beer that he had very sorely needed after the night's excursion, he would be sure to understand what they were talking about. That had only made the self loathing and feeling of foreboding coil inside of him more tightly, but Jack had said nothing.

He had said nothing because he did not know what to say. Since he had been very small, he had thought for certain that he would be married some day. He didn't have a lack of will to marry, like his mother had suggested might be the problem when his seventeenth birthday had approached and he had still not taken a shining to any girl in their colony. Certainly, he didn't cling to the words of the Bible or the vestments of a priest, as was the case with other boys his age who had not found some sort of calling in a woman.

Instead, Jack found that he had a certain kind of urge that had nothing to do with women at all. When he dreamt of mouths on his own, they were not full and ruby red- they were firm, thin. When thoughts of arms encircling him, holding him, stroking him found him in the night, they were not soft and delicate, but strong and well-muscled. The figures that moved in his deepest desires were not luscious curves and white skin, but hard lines with reddened, freckled skin made by working at forge or field.

When he had lain with the whore, he remembered his urges arising from the thought of being in her place instead. It had drawn up the desire in him, to imagine laying on his back, letting another man take pleasure from him.

Jack let out a little moan of woe, covering his ears and sinking down against one of the pine trees. He curled himself into a ball, trying to will the redness of his cheeks and the stinging of tears in his eyes to go away. He absolutely didn't want to be different, didn't want to know how cast out he might be if he were. He hadn't payed attention to his preacher's words much at all, but didn't all men marry women? And the ones who didn't, didn't they still yearn for them, for their touch? What did that make Jack? He didn't feel like a woman, didn't think he was one, but that didn't remove his desires, his dreams.

He felt a pang of loneliness, causing his tears to spill over. He knew that he was far away enough from the house that there would be no chance of his family hearing him, but the comfort was cold. What if he was...Strange? What if he was different, if he were the only one like this? If they could never understand, then it didn't matter if they could hear him or not. He would be trying to explain something that neither God nor nature had ever seen fit to make known to them, which meant... He'd be alone. All alone.

Forever.

The thought made him empty his heart in the form of tears, shaking breaths and snatches of hysteria rising in his voice. The fear he had felt before had mixed with anguish, making Jack feel utterly wretched. His mind reeled with the possibility of having to leave his family, his friends, his entire life behind for something that he didn't get a choice in, something he didn't even understand. And he would have to leave, because the strain of trying to act like his happy, unburdened, mischievous self was already beginning to take its toll on him. 

An icy bolt of terror shot through him at the thought of having to be all alone for the rest of his days. Jack bent over his knees and screamed against them, again clutching at his head, as if holding some faint hope that the pressure from his hands could squeeze the fear and sadness and all their troubled thoughts from his mind. 

Finally, he gave in. He gave in to the despair that seemed to surround him like so many shadows, the depression that curled him in it's fangs and pierced him there, letting tears instead of blood. His hands fell from his head to his arms, his last attempt at forcing some comfort into himself. But even that backfired on him, the little voice in his head reminding him that this might be the only comfort he would know for the rest of his life. Jack slumped against the trunk of the tree with the moan of a dying man, trying to block out that horrible thought.

_No..._ the voice said, growing stronger, nearer to the forefront of his mind. _Don't ignore me, Jack. You know I'm right._

"Shut up." Jack hissed through grit teeth, voice still thick with tears.

_But Jack... You'll need me to keep talking. I'm all you'll have left when they find out about you._ The voice paused, but Jack could practically feel the smile curling in it's next words, tone dripping with malicious glee. _You'll be all alone when they find out about your sinful little perversion of nature, Jack. You'll be lucky if they don't hang you._

Jack sobbed, tried to thrash against the voice, tried to shake the voice out of himself. But he couldn't move. His arms and legs and torso stuck fast to where he'd lain them only seconds before, completely out of his command. He felt as though he were a doll, controlled from the inside by some invisible puppeteer. His eyes rolled heavenwards and he could see dark clouds gather over the sky. They curled in demonic, arabesque formations, blocking out the light that had been shining in dappled beams through the branches of the trees. 

It struck terror into his heart, being cast into darkness, and he wondered if this was finally a punishment, if God had finally realized his unnaturalness and saw fit to remove him from the world. He was not even allowed to fight back, to flee. No, his body was vulnerable in posture, his vision handicapped by darkness, and the current of fear turned into a vicious rip tide that tore through him, making more tears surge out, making his heart half-burst in his chest, as though trying to escape its doomed prison.

He could swear he heard a pleasured sigh rise in the back of his mind.

His eyes moved forward to look in front of him and, after a few moments, they adjusted enough that he could make out curling shadows, the tendrils almost seeming like living things. He wanted to run, but couldn't; he wanted to scream, but the fear stopped up quick in his throat. Even when Jack became aware that there was, in fact, a voice murmuring in front of him, he couldn't respond. All he could do was lay there.

So he lay, completely at the mercy of whatever demon might be in front of him, and watched as it formed itself from the writhing mass of inky darkness that had surrounded him, blocking out both natural light and sound, washing everything over in a fresh layer of horror. Like a slow-winding current, the demon stepped out from the rest of the shadows, form taking finer and finer shape as he walked.

_Jack._

The voice rang out in his mind, more loud and clear than any bell or gun. It was the same voice as before, but now it had a hold on him that he couldn't fight. There was no way to block it out, no way to think over it. Though the demon's mouth did not open, it smiled at Jack, bearing sharp, blackened teeth that jutted out like dagger points. Jack felt another wave of fear wash over him, his mind reeling with wild ideas of what might happen. But the voice itself slipped over his thoughts like the touch of a silk glove, smooth, if not cold.

_Are you scared, Jack?_ it asked him, stepping closer still. _Are you frightened?_

Its voice was filled with joy, though it didn't seem as though it meant to mock him with its questions. Rather, it seemed like the voice his mother had used when she was pleased he and his sister had enjoyed a meal, had asked them if it was good, if they were happy. It was a question and a tone that both demonstrated the knowledge of the answers before they had even asked.

This close, Jack could make out the demon's appearance. The last of the shadows gone from it, he could now see that the thing, the creature that stood in front of him was shaped like a man. His face was smooth as porcelain, though his skin seemed grey rather than white. His hair shot about behind him, inky and black and resembling more the plumage of an exotic bird than any he'd seen before. His face was long but his bone structure was delicate; his eyes were dark, but large. He stood taller than any man that Jack had ever seen and, though his body was covered by a tightly fitting cloak, he could see that muscle moved beneath the thick, richly embroidered cloth.

Jack wondered if his beauty was meant as part of the divine punishment he was about to face- if the man's otherworldly beauty was meant to further ensnare him or to mock him, to show him it was the thing that he most wanted that would destroy him. But the demon, the man, only came closer, bending to have a better look at Jack. His hands hovered Just over Jack's body, tugging this way and that to follow the demon's eyes as they scrolled over the young man. Jack couldn't help but notice every detail of the demon: how his long fingers tapered out at the edges, delicate and vicious looking; how his eyes, the only part that held any colour on his body, were the shade of gold, a patina of darkness fading them, causing their colour to flicker and fade. He couldn't help but be attracted to this agent of the shadows, but he felt the fear of this attraction, the fear of what would come of it, of his surrender to it, eat away at him inside.

A look of incredible rapture passed over the demon's face.

_Oh..._ he moaned and, though he did not speak aloud, his lips twisted into a shape to match the sound. _Yes, Jack. Again._

In the back of Jack's mind, he could hear the voice of the whore, saying the same words. Somehow, the demon had dredged them up, had used them against him, except... Except this time, he felt his body respond to them, to the sound of pleasure and the closeness of the demon. Jack struggled against the attraction, but felt the voice of the demon move over his mind with that same smooth, gloved touch, dragging his resistance away. 

_Yes, Jack, I know. I know all about you. All your secrets._ he told the young man, examining Jack's face now. _Your fear is so...wonderfully potent._

He punctuated the final word by pressing his fingertips to Jack's chin, tilting the boy's head upwards. Where he touched, Jack could feel fire under his skin. He was never more aware of how thin the veil of his flesh was, how easily it could be torn away, damaged, than when the demon touched him. He felt the pointed nails dig in against the pulse in his throat and struggled, begging his throat to open so that he could let out a scream and at least relieve his terror somewhat, even if he couldn't escape.

But there was another part of him that responded to the heat, responded to the touch, responded to the mere presence of the demon. The desire inside of him bubbled to the surface, breaking and mixing with the flood of fear that ran through his body. He was consumed with a strange need to hand himself over to the demon, willingly... To offer his body as tribute, to let the demon conquer him. Words tore themselves from the mouth he could no longer control: "My king."

Though he had not had control over saying them, he felt their meaning, the emotion in them, resonated inside of him. Need tore through him like a hot knife, dissecting him and laying him open and defenseless against the creeping non-voice of the shadow king. _My king_ his own voice repeated in his head, guided along by that same silk-soft touch. Desire twined with fear inside of him, rocking his emotions back and forth until they were an incoherent mash of tears and silent screams.

It was done, then. All Jack's defenses against the sudden paralysis, against the onslaught of emotions, against the darkness, against everything this divine creature seemed to bring about, were obliterated. The last of resistance drained from his muscles, and he felt the shadow king, the demon slide his large hand and long fingers around the back of Jack's skull, cradling it with a gentleness Jack would have not guessed the creature possessed. He felt the strange half-reality of sleep as he was cradled, brought closer into the folds of the shadow king's cloak.

_Tell me, Jack..._ the demon crooned over him, settling the young man against his chest. Jack could not feel a heart beat. It frightened him more, which only seemed to make the shadow king laugh fondly, fingernails toying with the soft red-brown down of Jack's hair. _Are you afraid of me?_

"Yes." Jack said, as if he were compelled. It didn't make it any less true.

_Then why don't you fight against me, hm?_

He watched Jack expectantly, smile both beatific and horrifying. Jack felt a shiver run through him as his mind scrambled for a thought that he could verbalize, that would sate the shadow king's appetite for games and dampen his hunger for brutality, for harm. But his lips felt heavy and numb. The demon wasn't compelling him to answer...He was forcing Jack to struggle against whatever paralyzed him, to prove the truth of his statement by the sheer willpower it would take to state.

Even with all his determination, with all his willpower, with all his energy, Jack couldn't speak. It was only then that he realized how deep the grasp the demon had on him was, how truly powerless he was to stop anything that he did. The idea both terrified and excited him, causing the shadow king to moan again, reveling in Jack's emotional turmoil. It was as if the additional desire and pleasure leached from the demon into him, breaking Jack from the inside out, stamping out his ability to distinguish from the demon's control and his own thoughts.

_You're mine, aren't you Jack?_ he asked. Jack could feel the hardness pressing against one of the thighs that dandled across the shadow king's lap. His cheeks flooded with heat as he was allowed to squeak out a quiet "Yes."

The shadow king smiled at him affectionately once more. Before Jack could think on it, he felt the long fingers in his hair tighten. The demon wrenched his head back violently, the motion so jarring and forceful that Jack felt and heard his spine and neck crack at various points. Teeth were on his throat and Jack felt a horrible well of fear being tapped within him again, but that was nothing to the sheer hell of when the demon bit down, puncturing Jack's skin. He could feel his own blood rolling out over his neck, felt tears in his eyes. But more than anything, Jack felt the screams and sobs in his throat that he could not, was not allowed to let free.

He felt also a smile against his neck, he felt the shadow king lap at his neck delicately, kissing against the knot in Jack's throat where his screams were stopped up. _Don't worry, Jack..._ he crooned, raising his hips just a bit so that Jack felt the hardness pressed against his backside. It was a feeling that made him want to gasp, to squirm, but that, too, was denied to him. _I won't tell everyone what a brazen little whore you are. And when they find out for themselves, well..._ He chuckled darkly, coating his lips in blood as he kissed the side of Jack's neck again. 

_I'll let you swear yourself to me. You'd make a pretty little shadow._

And then the darkness moved in on them, pressing closer. Hands were all around Jack, pressing into his mouth, stroking his face, picking at the punctured flesh in his neck. They pulled him away from the shadow king's arms and, had Jack been able to do so, he would have cried out against it. He was horribly frightened of the demon, yes, but he was more frightened now at being taken away from him. 

Hell seemed less horrible if only he had something to cling to. Death seemed bearable as long as he didn't die alone.

_What do you say, Jack?_ he asked, his voice teasing and self-contented again. 

Jack felt hands hold up his head, felt his eyes focus again on the demon in front of him rather than anything else. The shadow king was moving very slowly, stretching out his arms and hands and touching them at various points of his body. It took Jack a few seconds to realize that the hypnotic, deliberate movements he was watching the man make were his method of undressing. He'd sweep a long-fingered hand over an area and Jack would watch the shadows on it peel away, evaporating into thin air and rejoining the tendrils that held him still. 

As the demon was removing the cloth that covered his chest, Jack felt the hands begin to strip him of his own clothing. He could not protest, he could not resist, he could not tear his eyes away from the demon in front of him. He felt as the shadowy creatures removed his pants, his cloak, his shirt, leaving him bare to their touches. They stroked his skin delicately, though their touches were not satisfying as the king's had been. These, however, even stroked his cock, his chest. They pressed inside of him, they played with his mouth, and there was nothing that Jack could do to encourage them or fight them off. He had to endure every touch- hot or cold, sharp or soft, wet or dry- with equal docility.

He only remained looking at the shadow king as he undressed, could not turn his attention away to the hands that ravaged him. He noted every detail that was available to him in the darkness, took notice of every line of muscle and every jet black hair. The demon was handsome and, even without his cloak and vestments, even completely naked, he stood as a king in front of Jack. He seemed to relish in the young man's distress, taking in every flicker of emotion that the hands' touches brought about in him.

It was only when Jack felt cries of painful ecstasy build in his throat that, all at once, the shadows fell away from around him. He fell from his knees, dropping back, but the hands and the shadow creatures seemed to oblige in holding him up, in spreading his legs. He realized they'd become a makeshift bed for his body only when their king knelt down between Jack's legs, looking up at him with an amused smile.

_I almost can't wait until they cast you out._ he crooned, his fingers burning hot on Jack's legs as he pulled the boy towards him. The shadow creatures made certain he was always looking at their king, always hearing what he had to say... Always seeing what the king wanted him to see. Jack had to watch as he was pressed into once more, had to see as well as feel the shadow king fill him up. He laughed at Jack's mix of pain and pleasure, of desire and self hatred. _You won't be lonely...I'll make you a beautiful shadow and keep you by my side, always. You can be my little consort._

Images superimposed themselves over Jack's mind. He could see himself, dressed in shadows as the demon was, the colour of his eyes and hair and skin all drained from him. He could see the necklace around his throat, a choker of onyx and lead that the king threaded his finger through with a fond expression. He saw himself being laid out, bent over, forced down, saw himself being fucked again and again... But he also saw himself being kissed and held and a void inside of him cried out to be filled, to give in and beg to be tainted.

The shadow king groaned at the swell of emotion in Jack's heart, at the despair there, and drove himself deeper still. Jack was seated against the demon's hips now, completely senseless with need and pleasure as he was driven into again and again and again, harder and harder and harder still, as if the demon couldn't quite get his fill of consuming Jack, of tainting him. He was certain he'd be screaming in pleasure if not for the vice on his body that strangled out every noise. 

_That's what you want, isn't it, Jack?_ the voice prodded gleefully. _Someone to satisfy you, to kiss you? Someone who won't turn you away or cast you out?_

The shadow king kissed him on the mouth and again, Jack was terrified. Kissing the demon was like having the breath not only knocked out of him, but kept out... It was like drowning. It was like he was drowning and the demon would not let him come up for air, stopped his ability to breathe along with his ability to scream. Jack felt the shadow king's cock twitch inside of him at the burst of panic the young man suffered. The demon clung more closely to him, pressed their bodies as flush against each other as he could manage. When they broke apart, he peppered Jack's cheeks with tiny kisses and little bites, the jerk of his hips bringing little bursts of unbearable pleasure to Jack.

_You'd never be alone with me._

Dimly, Jack realized that he must be lonely, too. He could feel the emotions of the demon, could feel the honesty in his words, could feel how he was bearing himself. It didn't make sense, Jack thought, it didn't make sense that he would ask a human, an unremarkable young man like himself, to be his lover. Would he seek out anyone who caught his eye? Was his loneliness really so terrible?

But the shadow king covered Jack's mouth with another kiss, shocking him and sending Jack's mind plummeting back towards the hazy, panic-riddled survival mode it was meant to hold. He felt the way that the shadow king pushed into him then, the way he held him close and fucked him so hard that even the wetness the shadows before had spread around inside of Jack wasn't enough to keep blood from trickling down his thighs and the king's hips.

Again, desire leached from the shadow king into Jack and he felt not just the heat, not just the desire, but...But the actual bliss, the actual nearness that he'd others had told him was supposed to be the end of his urges. He had the terrible urge to cry out but couldn't, had the horrible need to drive himself harder against the demon's cock, but had to remain still, held in the grasp of shadows both servile and royal. 

They came together, his body wrenching itself in an arch to mirror the one the shadow king's body formed. Though his own seed was spilled across the grey skin of the demon, far more satisfying was the feeling of the demon's own hot seed inside him. He felt a shiver of pleasure as he felt the king ride out the last of his orgasm, moving the hot wetness deeper and deeper inside of Jack.

With one last kiss, the shadow king released Jack, allowing the shadow creatures to stroke him, to replace his clothes and lay him down where he had first slumped against the tree.

He watched with half-lidded eyes as the shadows swarmed back around their king, restoring his robes and finery to their original state. If Jack hadn't known what had just taken place, he'd have never guessed that the tiny tremors in the shadow king's movements were anything more than rustling brought on by the wind. But there was no wind where the shadows shielded them, and Jack could only watch the tiny, idiosyncratic movements and think on what they'd done.

He was exhausted- mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausted- and yet, he felt an odd sense of peace about all that had happened. 

"Stay with me." he said. He'd have been surprised if he had had the emotional fortitude to be so after such a draining night, but he didn't. He only felt a little relief at finally being able to talk again, at realizing that his body's lack of will to move now had to do with exertion and not with the shadow king's control.

The shadow king turned to look at Jack with an odd expression, as though he were a little moved by Jack's request and a little insulted that Jack was no longer properly frightened of him. But Jack could see that the former of the two emotions won out when he added a soft murmur of "Please?"

Though his vision began to fade, he felt arms enclose themselves around him. He could feel chilled winds whipping all around him as he was held in the shadow king's arms, but didn't think to look up from his chest for quite some time. It only vaguely occurred to him that the shadows were flying, that he was being held in the arms of someone who was carrying him through the trees, over the land. To where, he didn't know. 

He simply rested his head back against the chest of the shadow king and let sleep consume him.

*

"Jack." 

Jack turned, grumbling as he pulled a pillow over his head. It was promptly torn from his hands and used to hit him over the face.

"JACK!" 

Bolting upright, Jack turned around and stared blearily. He was...Not in the woods? No. It was his home. He was at home, in his bed. 

He clasped a hand to his neck, rubbed his legs together under his covers experimentally. No... No soreness, no bites.

Jack's brow furrowed. Had it all been a dream? But...If it had been a dream, then- He looked very worriedly over at his sister, who regarded his wide eyes and shocked expression with a raised eyebrow. She crossed her arms, as if waiting for an explanation for Jack's strange behaviour. "Did you have a nightmare or something?" she asked.

"Uh..." he replied, none too tactful, "I...Maybe?"

"How do you not know if you did or if you didn't?" she asked back, obviously convinced he was trying to act tired and confused so that he could shirk on some of the harder chores of the morning or beg an hour more of sleep from their mother, leaving her bored. He grinned sheepishly. 

"I don't know, I guess...It was just really real, is all. I thought-"

"Jack! What's that?" His sister asked as he sat up, running over and tugging at his covers. Beneath his regular comforter lay something alien to her, but not him. Though it looked a bit different in the daylight, Jack could see the rich embroidery on the black cloak that was draped over his bed. He smiled, running his fingers over the material. "Where'd you get it?" she asked, wide eyed at the beauty of it.

"From a nightmare of mine."


End file.
